Act Normal

If my life was a colour, it’d be beige. I’ve got an office job, a meal prep routine, and I hit the Y a couple of times a week. On a good week, I’ll get a Tinder match, take her to the burger place downtown, just to see if things click. They usually don’t, but that’s just how it goes, right?

I work out with my buddy Stuart. We’ve been tight since college, even though he’s gay. Doesn’t bother me — why would it? I’m cool with gay guys, as long as they don’t make a big deal about it.

So maybe it’s bugging me a little.

Back in college he was a pretty normal guy, but these last few years... it really feels like he's trying to turn the gay thing into his whole personality. He’s got this bleached-blond hair and these ridiculously tiny shorts he wears to the gym. Like, what’s he trying to prove? And the way he checks out guys while we’re working out? Come on. I’m always telling him, “Dude, just act normal.”

He laughs it off like it’s no big deal.

Anyway, one evening I got to the Y before Stuart. I just had this god-awful meeting at work, so I figured I’d swim some extra laps to get out the stress. The pool was quiet — just me and the aquafit ladies. I dove in, started swimming, and let my brain zone out.

I did maybe... 400 meters before I took a breather. I figured Stuart would be along at any second, then we could do a couple dozen laps each and go lift some weights. I was finally feeling like my stress level had dropped to normal.

That didn't last once Stuart showed up. He was wearing a fuckin' speedo.

I wear a pretty normal set of trunks. Stuart likes to wear jammers, those long spandex trunks that sort of cling to his legs. I'd been mortified the first time I saw them, but you can get used to anything, right? Not a goddamn speedo though... that was too much.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" I asked as he strolled toward the pool deck, all casual.

"A swimsuit," he said, rolling his eyes, like I’d just asked a stupid question.

"It looks like underwear," I shot back.

Stuart just shrugged.

I stared after him, baffled. "God, why can’t you just… act normal?" I muttered, going back to my old refrain as I turned to start another lap.

"Whatever." Without another word, he dove into the pool.

But this time, Stuart wasn’t having it. A few minutes after my jab, he swam to the edge of the pool and looked right at me. "You know what, dude? Normal is overrated. And let’s be real here, you’re not talking about normal anyway. You’re talking about hetero."

I blinked. "What the hell are you even talking about?"

"You don’t mind I suck dick," Stuart said, loud enough that the lifeguard turned her head. "Just so long as I don’t look like it, or act like it, or dress like it, right? Fuck you, man."

"Hey, I’m just trying to help you out," I said defensively. "You wear that shit, someone’s gonna kick your ass, put you in the hospital… you’re my bro, I don’t wanna see that."

"How about you back me up then?" Stuart snapped. "Someone wants to kick my ass, you help me kick theirs. That’s a bro move. This ‘act normal’ shit? That’s just homophobia in a different hat."

He pushed off from the edge and went back swimming laps, his strokes sharp and fast, cutting through the water like a knife. Way faster than he usually swam.

I stood there for a moment, watching him go, my face hot with anger or embarrassment—I wasn’t sure which. Finally, I lifted myself out of the pool, grabbed my towel, and stormed off to the locker room. As I glanced back, I couldn’t help but notice Stuart’s tight ass in that speedo, gliding smoothly down the lane. Pissed me off even more.

The showers were steaming when I walked in, the sound of water hitting tile masked my grumbling. I just wanted to rinse off and cool down, but I guess I wasn’t hiding my disgust. A big guy at the next shower — a bodybuilder type with muscles for days — noticed my mood.

"You okay, buddy?" he asked, glancing over as he soaped up.

"Yeah," I snapped, but then saw who I was talking to. "Sorry, man. Just… kinda had a fight with a buddy."

The guy raised an eyebrow. "That so?"

I sighed, the words spilling out. “My buddy Stuart... he’s a f — uh, he’s gay. And he showed up wearing this fucking banana hammock. Looks ridiculous, so I told him to act normal, like wear trunks or something, and he blows up for no reason. Called me a homophobe, which is bullshit, but he can’t prance around in that kinda shit and expect people not to comment, y’know?"

The bodybuilder nodded, thoughtful. "Yeah, I know, Stuart. He respects me. But I know what you mean... just ‘cause you’re gay doesn’t mean you gotta act a certain way or dress a certain way, right?"

"Exactly," I said, feeling understood for the first time.

"You’re straight, right?" he asked, tilting his head. "It’s not like you dress the way you do ‘cause you’re straight—it’s just dressing the way everyone else does, right?"

"Yeah," I agreed easily. "I just wish… I wish he’d be normal, y’know? Stop making it all about his sexuality and… just dress like everyone else. Act like everyone else. It’s not homophobic to say that, it’s just the truth!"

The bodybuilder grinned and snapped his fingers. "Well, consider your wish granted. The stuff Stuart likes... it’ll be normal.”

"Huh?" I asked, blinking.

"Relax, dude, I’m fucking with you," he said, twisting off his shower and grabbing his towel from the hook. "I can’t just snap my fingers and permanently change the world… that’d be crazy."

"Yeah," I chuckled, starting to relax. "Too bad magic's not real. Stuart could use some.”

"Yeah," he shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “Too bad magic’s not real. Anyway, why don’t I talk to Stuart about this. Maybe I can get everything sorted out.”

“Really dude?” I asked, surprised that he’d be willing to help. “I don’t... look, don’t make it awkward or anything, okay?”

“Relax bro,” the bodybuilder chuckled. “Go do your workout. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

He winked and disappeared around the corner towards the pool.

I shrugged off my argument with Stuart and headed for the weight room. Only this time, something felt... off. All the guys in the gym were wearing tiny shorts—like Stuart’s. Every last one of them. It was like a uniform nobody told me about.

I was still trying to process it when Stuart came out of the locker room. "Hey," he said, spotting me. "I… wanted to apologize. Mike and I talked for a while, and... I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that. Mike explained there’s a better way to handle it."

"You’re all good," I said with a laugh, pointing at the room full of men in tiny shorts. "Looks like I was wrong about that being a gay thing. Apparently, you were just ahead of the trend."

Stuart smirked. "Does that mean you want a pair?" He gestured at my baggy gym shorts.

"Fuck off," I said, punching his shoulder. "But yeah, where did you get those?"

Stuart grinned, clearly enjoying this. "There’s a store downtown. I’ll text you the address."

"Cool," I said, nodding. "I’ll stop by tomorrow."

"See, dude?" Stuart said, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "It’s not hard to act normal."

------

The next day, I showed up at the gym with a fresh pair of gym shorts. Little red ones, from that store Stuart suggested. I still wasn’t sure about them, but I figured, what the hell. When in Rome, right?

Before hitting the weights, I headed to the pool to swim a few laps. The locker room smelled like chlorine and deodorant, the familiar cocktail of the Y. I changed into my trunks and walked out to the water.

That’s when I spotted Stuart—or who I thought was Stuart—already in the water. He was cutting through the lane like a shark, still wearing his ridiculous speedo. I rolled my eyes and walked closer, waiting for him to finish his lap.

The guy surfaced, panting at the edge of the pool. I was about to give him shit when I realized… that wasn’t Stuart. It was Brock. My buddy Brock. The guy I’d always seen as a no-nonsense, man’s man—the kind of guy who could chop wood one-handed and grill a steak to perfection.

“Hey, bro,” Brock said, raising an eye at my swim trunks. “You still wearing that baggy shit?”

“Huh?” I muttered, caught off guard.

I glanced around and noticed for the first time that the dozen or so guys in the pool area were all wearing speedos. Not just plain ones either—bright colors, stripes, patterns. A fucking rainbow of swimwear.

“Oh, shit,” I laughed, scratching the back of my neck. “I guess I missed a memo.”

“Hey, dude,” Stuart said, strolling past me in a royal blue speedo, water dripping from his blond hair. He dove into the deep end with a perfect arc, resurfacing with a grin.

“Fine,” I said, cannonballing in after him. The splash earned me a glare from the lifeguard. I swam close to Stuart, treading water. “I hate it, but… if everyone’s wearing those fuckin’ swimsuits… where’d you get it, bro?”

Stuart rolled his eyes. “Jimmy’s. The sports store downtown. They’ve got a ton of them. You’ll fit right in.”

We swam a few more laps and called it a day. After drying off and heading back to the locker room, I changed into my new gym shorts. They were the shortest they'd had – 3”, shiny silk, and… yeah, they definitely showed off more than I usually did.

Stuart walked over, giving me an approving look. “Nice,” he said, nodding. “Feels comfortable, doesn’t it?”

“I mean… yeah,” I admitted, brushing my fingers against the fabric. “I guess that’s why they’re the trend.”

“Yeah,” Stuart chuckled. “That’s why.”

---

The next day, I stood in the locker room, staring at the speedo in my hand. Bright yellow, a little stretchy, and a hell of a lot skimpier than anything I’d ever worn. I'd argued with myself the night before, thinking there was no way I'd “actually” show up in something that tiny, but eventually I figured... it’d be easier to just go with the flow. Everyone’d been staring at me in my baggy trunks the day before, and I’m a sucker for conformity.

I sighed, slipped out of my boxers, and pulled on the speedo. It felt… weird. Like I was naked but not. I adjusted it a couple of times, trying to get comfortable.

“Hey, bro,” came a familiar voice. I glanced up to see the bodybuilder from the showers striding in. He popped open a locker directly across from me and smirked. “Looks like someone decided to suck a cock, huh?”

“Fuck off,” I moaned, grabbing my towel to cover myself. “Everyone’s wearing them.”

“So what?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “It only looks gay til it’s popular?”

“I was wrong about it,” I said, defending my choice. “It even feels pretty good. There’s less drag when you swim in one.”

The bodybuilder laughed, slipping into a stringer tank that barely covered his chest. “Besides...” I added, eyeing him. “Isn’t that a little gay? Showing off your tits to all the fags in the gym?”

He just chuckled, shaking his head. “Get real, dude. You lift for the attention, right? Every guy in here just wants to show off. You gotta dress for it. Just act normal, right bro?”

Smirking, he grabbed his water bottle and headed for the gym. I watched him go, then sighed and grabbed my towel. Time to hit the pool.

I had to admit, the speedo felt really good in the water. I think I swam a little faster than normal, without the drag from my baggy trunks. Plus... none of the guys stared this time. It let good to blend in with the crowd.

I swam like normal, then went to change into my shorts.

Lime green this time, an eye-catching neon which somehow made them feel smaller. I slipped them on, already weirded out by how they clung to my thighs. At least my plain white tee made me feel safe and normal. Maybe the bodybuilder only wanted attention, but guys like me... we know you don’t need to flaunt it.

Stuart came out of the showers and pulled on his own pair of stupid shorts. They were shiny black, and they caught the fluorescent lights. He grabbed a pink stringer tank from his locker, pulling it on without hesitation.

"Are you seriously gonna wear that?" I scoffed, shoving the mesh tank top deep into my locker.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, giving me a strange look. “Slutty tank tops are in. Everyone’s doing it. Just… stop being weird about this shit, okay?”

“Fuckin’… goddamn…” I muttered under my breath, pointing at his tank. “You’re seriously telling ME to act normal?”

“If the shoe fits,” Stuart shrugged, grabbing his water bottle. “Meet you in the stretch room.”

It felt like I was the only guy with sleeves at the gym that day. It turned out the bodybuilder was just dressing like everyone else. The room was full of stringer tanks and cutoff tees and even a few guys working out shirtless.

Time for another trip to Jimmy’s.

------

The next day I wasn’t wearing a plain white tee anymore. I ended up buying a white tank top made of some kind of ridiculous mesh fabric. It had deep cuts on the sides, leaving most of my torso exposed.

I felt weird, but hey... styles change. You’ve got to adapt.

The weight room was buzzing when I walked in. Guys were talking louder than usual, laughing and throwing compliments like it was a game. I spotted Stuart stretching, surrounded by a group of powerlifters who were fawning over his hair.

“Blond really suits you, man,” one of them said, brushing a hand through his own brown mop. “I’m thinking of hitting up a salon tomorrow. You go downtown for that?”

“Yeah,” Stuart said, grinning as he adjusted his tank top. “My guy’s at Prismatic. He’s a wizard with bleach.”

Another guy nodded. “No way—my girlfriend goes there. Guess I’m booking an appointment too.”

I walked over, still tugging at the hem of my tank, feeling way more exposed than I wanted to admit. Just as I reached them, a guy I vaguely recognized—Dale, maybe?—slapped me on the ass. Hard.

“Those squats are really working for you, huh?” he said with a grin.

“Dude, what the fuck?” I shot back, stepping away. “Don’t hit on me.”

“I’m not hitting on you, dude,” Dale sighed, rolling his eyes. “Bros gotta pump up their bros, y’know? Stop being weird—it’s not sexual or whatever. Just act normal.”

“You being weird again?” Stuart asked, giving me a raised eyebrow.

“No,” I muttered, feeling my face heat. “I’m just… whatever…”

What the hell was going on? First everyone decides it’s time to wear booty shorts to lift? Then speedos are suddenly standard for the pool? And as of yesterday, sleeves were... out of style?

And now guys were just... complimenting each other? The trends were stacking up faster than TikTok on spring break.

There was an awkward pause. Stuart was looking at me weirdly. Expecting me to join the crowd and give him a compliment.

Fuck... I didn’t want to be the weird one.

“Your hair does look pretty awesome today,” I said, the words feeling foreign as they left my mouth.

Stuart’s face lit up with a wide smile. “Thanks, bro. Love the new tank—really shows off your pecs.”

I felt a surprising glow of warmth at the compliment. “Yeah, you too, bro,” I said, trying to match his tone. “I mean… your pecs look really hot too.”

“Thanks,” Stuart said, giving me a flirty smirk. “And Dale’s right—you’ve got a great ass.”

I blushed, the heat crawling up my neck, but… it was okay. Right? This was normal. I just wanted to move past the weirdness.

“Let’s see if the bench is open,” I suggested. “I could use a chest pump.”

“For sure,” Stuard nodded agreeably.

Together, we walked across the gym floor, weaving through groups of guys chatting and hyping each other up. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and the clanging of weights. Close enough to normal...

We found an open bench near the back wall. Stuart and I grabbed 45lb weights, loading up the bar. I settled myself under it.

“Spot me?” I asked.

“You got it,” Stuart said, standing behind the bench.

I unracked the bar, my arms straining slightly as I lowered it to my chest. Just as I pressed it back up, I felt something… a tug at the waist of my shorts. My focus shattered, and I nearly dropped the bar on myself. A loud, unmistakable moan filled the air, coming from the bench beside me.

“Whoa!” Stuart exclaimed, grabbing the bar and helping me re-rack it.

I sat up, my heart pounding. “What the fuck was that?” I hissed, looking to my left. My jaw dropped. Dale was on the bench next to me, his shorts down around his ankles. A random muscle head knelt between Dale’s legs, his lips wrapped around Dale’s cock. Dale’s gym partner stood behind him, spotting the lift like nothing unusual was happening.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!??!” I screamed, drawing the attention of several nearby gym-goers.

Dale, oblivious to my outburst, racked his weight and sat up, careful not to dislodge the muscle head still enthusiastically working on him. “What’s wrong, bro?” Dale asked, his tone genuinely confused.

“Why the hell is he”—I pointed at the muscle head—“on your dick?”

“What?” Dale shrugged nonchalantly. “Like you’ve never sucked a dick before? Sometimes you just need to wrap your lips around a thick cock, y’know? Just act normal, bro. Sometimes we’re all a little gay.”

“Act normal?” I repeated, my voice rising. “ACT FUCKING NORMAL???”

The muscle head pulled off Dale’s cock with a wet pop, saliva dripping from his lips. He looked up at me with confusion. “What’s wrong, bro? You want some cock?”

Everyone was staring at me uncomfortably, like I was making a scene for no reason. I felt like I was going crazy. Slutty tanks... sure, whatever, it’s a trend... but sucking off your bros while they lift weights...?

But there was only one way to blend in...

“FUCK YES I WANT SOME COCK!” I shouted automatically, my voice echoing through the gym. The room went silent for a split second before the usual hum of activity resumed, as if nothing strange had happened.

Before I fully registered what I was doing, I dropped to my knees in front of Dale. My hands gripped Dale’s thighs as I leaned forward, my mind a haze of confusion and instinct. All I knew was that I needed to act normal. And here, in this surreal version of normal, acting normal meant sucking cock at the gym.

I wrapped my lips around Dale’s cock, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. Somewhere deep inside, a small voice tried to protest, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming need to fit in, to belong, to act like this was just another part of the routine.

“Yeah, bro,” Dale said, his voice tinged with approval. “That’s more like it.”

My cheeks burned with a mix of shame and… something else. I didn’t understand what was happening, why the world seemed to have turned upside down. All I knew was that I was doing what everyone else seemed to think was normal. And maybe, just maybe, it would feel normal to me too...

I continued sucking on Dale’s cock, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. Dale groaned deeply, his hips bucking slightly as he gripped the bench for balance. With a loud, guttural moan, Dale exploded, his load shooting down my throat. I swallowed reflexively, my mind spinning as I pulled back, wiping a drip of cum from my chin.

“Damn, dude,” the muscle head said, watching with a smirk. “You’re one greedy slut.”

“Whatever,” I chuckled, my voice shaky but trying to play it cool. I swiped my chin again, this time more deliberately. “Dudes get horny. That’s totally normal.”

I sat back down on my bench, shaking my head slightly as if trying to clear it. Stuart and I finished our sets, a knowing smirk on his face the whole time. Over and over, I saw guys getting on their knees, sucking off other dudes as they lifted. Stuart had to pause our pull-ups so he could help out a guy on the pec deck, and I had to take another break help Brock with his tricep pulldown.

It was a couple hours before we managed to finish our routine and finally headed for the locker room.

“Hey, bro,” Stuart said casually. “You got a little cum on your moustache still… no, don’t wipe it. Makes you look like a hot slut.”

I blinked, my cheeks flushing slightly. I felt an unexpected glow of pleasure at the comment. “You really think so?” I asked, fishing for another compliment.

“Oh, relax, dude,” Stuart laughed. “Being a hot slut is totally normal.”

I couldn’t help but grin, the warmth spreading through me as we headed for the showers. Maybe Stuart was right. Maybe this was just… normal.

Stuart nudged me as we left the gym, grinning ear to ear. “Let’s head back to my place,” he said, motioning me towards his car. “I could still use a little help with this...”

He reached down and shook his cock in those tiny black shorts. I felt my own dick jump in my lime green pair. When did I start wearing workout shorts outside the gym?

I hesitated for a second, but I felt my hard-on already pulling me along. It was normal, right?  To help your buddy with his cock when he needs it?

“Yeah, alright,” I smiled, falling into step beside him.

When we got to his apartment, I couldn’t help but laugh as soon as we walked in. “Dude, what is this?” I asked, pointing at the walls. They were covered in erotic art — painting after painting of muscular men in the nude.

“It’s called having taste,” Stuart shot back, smirking. “Something you wouldn’t understand.”

“Taste?” I snorted, flopping onto his couch. “Your decorating is way too gay. Feels like I’m in Elton John's dressing room.”

He rolled his eyes and walked to the kitchen, grabbing two beers from the fridge. As he handed me one, he nodded toward the coffee table. “And what do you think of that?”

I picked up one of the silicone dildos arranged in a neat row. “Weird flex, bro. Who even collects these?”

“Someone with style,” he said, grabbing my ass with one hand and squeezing. “You should try it sometime.”

“Style? Sure,” I chuckled, swatting his hand away. “If being weird is normal, you’ve nailed it.”

Stuart laughed and grabbed my ass again, harder this time. “It’s normal to have good taste. It’s normal to appreciate things. And it’s normal…” he grinned mischievously, leaning closer, “to love cock.”

“Fine, it’s normal to have good taste and appreciate things,” I conceded with an easy shake of my head. “It’s normal to love cock.”

“And cum,” he added, pressing one finger up against my hole.  "Let's go in the bedroom."

His bedroom was filled with more paintings and prints, each one more artistic than the last. Stuart didn't waste a second. He twisted me around so fast that I got dizzy.  My shorts were down on the floor, catching around my ankles and making me feel awkward.  But the way his cock pressed against my hole...

He slid inside me, tickling something for the first time. I screamed with pleasure. I saw fireworks. Hell... I think I saw God.

Eventually I felt his cum flood my ass. It felt good to help my buddy out. Normal. I collapsed on the bed and fell into a contented daze.

-------

The next morning, I pulled on my lime green shorts and the mesh tee I’d worn from the gym. The early sun felt warm against my skin as I stepped outside, and I decided to take the long way home through my neighborhood. It was buzzing with activity—guys out enjoying the sun in their short shorts and slutty shirts. Some were wearing tanks like mine, others sported crop tops, and a few were completely shirtless, their glistening abs catching the light.

Everywhere I looked, compliments flew back and forth. “Nice glutes, bro!” one guy shouted across the street. I responded by flexing and winking. It was like an unspoken contest to see who could show off the most skin or earn the loudest cheer.

I was almost back to my apartment when I caught a guy’s eye. He had a cheeky grin and a playful look about him. Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped into a nearby alley, and he followed.

“You a dumb slut?” he asked, putting his cock in my mouth.

I moaned and tried to say something, but my mouth was busy with more important matters.

“You’re totally a hot slut, aren’t you?” he teased, his fingers darting under my arms.

“Yes!” I gasped. “I’m a hot slut, okay?”

He grinned, stepping back. “Where do you live?”

“Not far,” I said, still catching my breath.

I led him back to my place, and as I opened the door, I hesitated. My apartment felt… different.

The walls were adorned with tasteful male nudes, flowers adorned the counters, and string lights crisscrossed the ceiling. Everything was impossibly clean. On the coffee table, three glass dildos were neatly lined up beside a mostly-empty bottle of lube.

The guy plopped onto my couch, pulling me down on top of him. “Nice place,” he said, his fingers already finding their way between my cheeks. “I mean... your taste is kinda basic, but you’re just a brainless fucktoy, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

I moaned with desire as he massaged lube into my hole. His cock was hard below me, pushing teasing me.

“It’s totally normal,” he assured me, his tone light and playful. “Guys get a little dumb if they’re fucked on the regular.”

As if to prove his point, he pushed his cock inside me and shattered my thoughts.

“Yeah,” I finally conceded between gasps. “I’m just a brainless fucktoy.”

He shot three loads into my ass before he left.  He had me repeat it over and over like a mantra as he rode me.  "I'm just a brainless fucktoy... I'm just a brainless fucktoy..."

After he left, I collapsed onto the couch, my whole body exhausted and my mind spinning.

I'm just a brainless fucktoy.

-------

I was in the shower, my hand idly groping my cock as the hot water cascaded over me. I was getting lost in the sensation when a loud knock sounded at the door. I groaned, twisting off the water and yelled “I’m coming!”

I chuckled to myself at the double entendre, wrapping a towel around my waist as I headed for the door.

When I opened it, I was greeted by a familiar face: Mike, the bodybuilder from the gym. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his smirk as cocky as ever.

“Hey, hot stuff,” I gushed, surprising myself. “Wanna come inside and ride my ass?”

“Maybe,” he said, his smirk widening. “But first… you still got enough brain cells to listen for a minute?”

“I’m just a brainless fucktoy,” I giggled, feeling a strange thrill at the words.

“Yeah, you are,” he agreed, stepping inside. “Sit down a sec, and then you can ride my cock after, okay?”

“You got it,” I said eagerly, grabbing a dildo from the coffee table and lubing it up. As I slid it inside, I watched him sit across from me, his expression pensive.

“So… I played a little trick on you,” he began, his tone almost apologetic. “You were so mad about Stuart being gay… see, I'm a friend of his... and I’m gay... and a wizard, so… I cast a little spell. For the past few days, the world around you has been turning gay, and because you’re so obsessed with being normal… you went incredibly gay too.”

The clouds in my head seemed to part for a moment. “Wait…” I said slowly. “The… uh… everyone wearing cute little shorts? That’s not normal?”

“Well... everyone else is going back to their boring gym shorts, but those cute neon ones? It’s normal for you,” he grinned.

“And… the speedos everywhere?” I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

“Most guys wear baggy swim trunks,” he admitted. “But the speedo... that’s normal for you,”

“And… and… getting sucked and fucked everywhere?” I gasped. “That’s NOT NORMAL??”

“It’s normal for you,” he shrugged again, his voice calm. “Straight guys aren’t usually into that stuff, but you’re not a straight guy anymore, are you?”

“I’m straight...” I squeaked, protests as best as I could with a dildo up my ass.

He moved closer, straddling me as he reached around and played with the toy inside me. My breath hitched as I looked up at him, completely overwhelmed.

“No, you aren’t...” he whispered in my ear. “Not anymore. Straight guys don’t have naked photos of bodybuilders in their living room. Straight guys don’t parade around town in booty shorts. Straight guys don’t let random dudes play with their holes... What you’ve been doing isn’t normal for straight guys, but...”

He trailed off, letting the silence fill the space between us.

“It’s normal for me!” I gasped, the realization hitting me like a freight train. “But I’m just a brainless fucktoy! I need big cocks to stuff my hole.”

“That’s right,” he said, grinning down at me. “And that’s normal. For you. You’re just acting normal… for you. Cause you’re a horny gay slut...”

The idea settled into my empty brain, filling me with a strange sense of peace. Fuck what other people think. I’ve got to do what’s normal for me.

I leaned back against the couch, my brain settling into the idea. The way I loved my speedo... that was normal. The way Stuart checkout out hot dudes at the gym... that was normal too.

This was my normal. Showing off my beautiful body. Wearing the sluttiest clothes I could get away with. Letting any guy who wanted drop a load in my ass...

 “So…” I started, looking over at the bodybuilder. “Is there, like… anything else you wanna tell me? Or are you ready to fuck a brainless fucktoy?”

He smirked, slipping his hand inside his shorts and letting his cock free.

“I think we’ve got time for a little fun before I go,” he said, his eyes glinting mischievously.

Before I could respond, he pounced, his cock slapping against my abs. He pressed his heavy body against mine and almost crushed me. Then all of a sudden my legs were in the air and he pulled the dildo from my hole. His cock teased me.

“Fuck me! Oh my god, fuck me!” I screamed, hoping that my neighbours might hear.

“I’ve got one more gift for you and Stuart...” he teased, his cock gently tickling my hole.  I tried to push back onto it, but he retreated just enough.  Fucker was taunting me.

“Gift?” I managed to choke out.

“Yeah. From here on out... you’re gonna be the hottest muscle studs in the gym,” he smirked. “Ready?”

I barely had time to nod before the change began. My shoulders broadened first, expanding outward with a crackling energy that made me gasp. My traps rose up, thick and powerful, as if sculpted by the hands of a master artist. I stared at my arms, watching in awe as they swelled with impossible fullness. Veins snaked down to my forearms, pulsing visibly with every beat of my heart. Every flex looked insane, like something out of a dream.

The bodybuilder chuckled. “Looking good, stud.”

Then my pecs surged forward, inflating into massive slabs of muscle. The weight of them was undeniable, stretching my shirt to the breaking point. Every slight movement sent them bouncing slightly, and I couldn’t help but reach up to feel their firmness. The sensation was almost addictive.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” the bodybuilder said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

My ass followed next, rounding out into a perfect bubble shape that felt impossibly firm. My shorts would cling to it like they’d been painted on, accentuating every curve. I could feel the strength radiating from my glutes, as if I’d been squatting twice my body weight for years. My legs thickened, too, transforming into tree trunks with every muscle defined and bulging, giving me a stance that felt unshakable.

“You’re a masterpiece now. How’s it feel?”

I turned towards the mirror beside my TV – there were a lot of mirrors in my apartment now. It took my breath away. The man staring back at me wasn’t just me—he was the best version of me. Better than I’d ever imagined.

My confidence surged, and a smirk spread across my face..

“Oh my god,” I whispered, running my hands over my chest. My pecs were massive, bulging outward like they belonged on a magazine cover. My shoulders were absurdly wide, tapering down to a tight waist and… holy shit, my bubble butt looked incredible. I couldn't wait to slip on a speedo and flounce down the pool deck.

The bodybuilder shifted his hips and slipped his cock inside me.

Oh fuck yeah... I was made for this.

-----

The next day, I strutted into the gym, my platinum blond hair catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. I’d spent the early morning at the salon, chatting up the stylist while he worked his magic. The blowjob I gave him afterward wasn’t planned, but when he called me a “hawt slut” for pulling off the new look so well, it felt like the right thing to do.

Something was different today, though. Most of the world seemed to have snapped back to normal, like a rubber band recoiling. Gone were the men in revealing clothing, the alleyway hookups, the shameless flaunting of asses and bulges.

Everyone was so boring.

Still, grindr existed, and I’d indulged before heading to the gym. I was running late, thanks to a nameless muscle twunk who’d pounded my hole into oblivion. He’d been charming in that no-strings way I loved, laughing when I made it clear I wasn’t into monogamy.

“Perfect,” he’d said with a wink. “I’m not looking for a relationship, just another hole in the rotation.”

As I stepped into the gym, a few guys gave me odd looks. Maybe it was the shorts barely containing my cock, or the neon pink tank top that screamed confidence. Or maybe it was the hungry way my eyes roved over every man in sight. Whatever the reason, I didn’t care. I felt incredible. I was confident, queer, and, most importantly, I knew this was normal... for me.

In the locker room, I slipped off my gym shorts and tugged on my speedo, the tight material perfectly framing my bubble butt. As I adjusted myself, I caught my reflection and smirked. Life was good.

I grabbed my towel and walked to the showers, hoping—just for a moment—that the bodybuilding wizard had left me at least a few guys here who’d wanna fuck in the showers. But no luck. The showers were empty, save for the steam swirling around me as I rinsed. I sighed and made my way to the pool, letting my confidence carry me.

The second I stepped into the pool area though... my eyes locked onto another muscle stud across the water. He was six foot four, built like a brick shithouse, with a perfect golden tan. My breath hitched when I saw his blond hair and… wait. Was that Stuart’s speedo?

“Oh my god,” I whispered, a grin spreading across my face as recognition dawned.

I walked over, my confidence unwavering, and waited until he noticed me. Stuart’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked me over.

“Bro,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “What the fuck happened? First there’s a week that I, like… barely remember. And then, I just… I was just chilling at home yesterday, and all of a sudden…”

“Relax, dude,” I said, putting my hands on his bulging shoulders. “Just act normal.”